Sitting on his dear sofa
With a glass of the finest vodka in hand,
Contemplating on the rudiments of the day
Playing back the words of un-cool Herty…
Fool, you are an arrogant and self absorbed bastard
You should have died in your mum’s womb
You do not know the meaning of the word love
You have no regard for the human being
You treat everybody like shit, fool
I hope your money can burn the sea…
Then he began…
He began to indulge
Indulge in this new discovery
Not drinking, of course not!
He was thinking…
For the first time in my life I am thinking
For the first time in my life I think I understand wisdom
Yeeeeeeees; this must be wisdom, I am now a thinker.
But why did it take so long for him to develop?
God bless Herty, but how to be re-born?
How to avoid the scorn, and disdain looks?
How to gain respect without a flaunt of wealth…?
Knowing that this is how my life would turn up
I wish I were born in abject poverty
*Shit! Damn the silver and gold spoons
*Shit! Not shit spoons, but fingers and hands…
Anyway, I wish I were born an orphan or the like
Miserable, poor, homeless and hungry…
So that’s why they ask…
Would you be a well-fed slave or a hungry free man?
*Shit! I wish I had an unhappy childhood
At least my adulthood would be happy
I wish I were ridiculed and laughed at as a child
I wish I had no money for school and walked
Long miles daily,
So that’s why they say
A journey of a thousand miles to adulthood begins with a step,
(He chuckles to himself, of course, to who else?)
*Shit! Knowing the future would be brighter
I wish I were the kid who studied with candles
I study with candles ‘cause we have no electricity
I study till the candle dies out each night
I know my future is brighter than the candlelight.
Yes, he must, before it’s too late
Why did it take this long for him to come home?
I must share this wisdom with the world
Yes, I must be unselfish for once
I’m afraid it may already be too late for me…
His fifth concubine was due for delivery in a month
With a grin as wide as Lake Bosomtwi-
I promise that child won’t be so unfortunate
Herty I am not a fool.
Otherwise I’m a thinking fool…
*pardon the language, poem left in its raw stage